Heartache and Alcohol
by Luna Goddess of the Night
Summary: Angela finds Demona drinking her sorrows out in a bar, and is invited to join her. In the midst of talking, with the promise of a truce for one night, Demona bestows some advice to her daughter.


_Note: Well, I've decided after some time, to go ahead and post something here. Gargoyles does not belong to me, but to Disney. And it's one of the few Disney shows that had its redeeming points. Please, enjoy._

_Heartache and Alcohol_

The bartender could hardly believe her eyes.

Standing before her was a gargoyle, plain and simple. There was no describing it. It wasn't like one of those she'd heard about, one of the males. This one was a female, with vibrant red hair down to her lower back, wild and free. Before she could make any other move, the gargoyle had slapped down a wad of bills onto the bar.

"Quit blubbering. Now either serve me, or I'll get it myself."

The bartender had quickly nodded her head, and went to start pulling out a glass. "W-what'll it be?"

The gargoyle smiled, showing off her fangs. "Shot of bourbon, on the rocks."

She watched as the bartender started to scrape ice into the glass and pour the drink of choice, then set it upon the surface, then excused herself for a moment. In the meantime, the gargoyle sat upon the barstool, and shot down the liquid, feeling every drop of it burn going down her throat.

"Another."

For the next few minutes, the bartender poured, and the gargoyle drank. Her appearance started to become more loose and relaxed, the alcohol beginning to take its effect slowly. Too slow for her tastes.

"Something stronger this time. Perhaps a shot of rum."

The drink was poured, and swigged down, burning a bit more. She shook her head, enjoying the effects it was starting to have on her body.

"Demona?"

The female straightened, her eyes now hard. She would recognize that soft voice anywhere. It was a voice that grated on her every nerve. From when she had first seen the brat in Paris, to finding out she had been brought here by _him_. The one she could never have again. And even though the thought of him made her bare her fangs, she ached inside. And it was a dull ache, one that could never be filled by anything else, let alone the alcohol.

Funny how the liquor and pain went together.

She turned to see the younger female start toward her, her stance loose, feet spread apart in case of an attack. The anger in her voice was obvious. "What are you doing here?"

Demona snorted, returning to her glass. "Relax. For tonight, I am not your enemy." She drank the liquid down, and banged it against the bar. "Another."

The other gargoyle stood there, surprise in her eyes. Demona inclined her head as she patted the stool. "Please, come sit beside me. Have yourself a drink, Angela."

Angela shook her head, unsure if she heard correctly. Demona gave a bitter chuckle. "Yes, I don't really get to use your name often, do I? Come, I insist."

Angela let out a small growl, but took the seat nonetheless. "Why are you here?"

The redhead snorted loudly into her glass, refilled. "I was asking that myself." She shot it down. "Another, and bring my daughter here a glass as well."

The bartender put another glass on the surface, and filled it with rum, then hurried to busy herself with other guests. Demona eyed the humans around her. "Funny. It was a year ago, after you and your clan saved that train, that humans seem to have begun to accept us as one of their own. None of them went screaming in terror when I walked in."

"Don't you hate humans? This is hardly the place I'd find you in." Angela gingerly sniffed at her drink, burning her delicate nose. "Ugh! This smells awful!"

"Hold your breath and drink it down," Demona advised, unable to hide her smile. "Take it in quickly."

The younger gave the glass a final look, before she closed her eyes, took in a breath, and swallowed it all in a single gulp. The liquid made her tongue go numb, and burned going down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, making a face. "That tastes worse than its smell!"

The older gargoyle let out a booming laugh. "The first one is always the hardest." She took the bottle of rum, which the bartender had finally decided to leave with them. "The second is stronger than the first. And then after, it goes down smooth." She refilled Angela's glass, then her own.

"As for why I'm here. Why not? Why not mingle with the humans once in awhile?" She looked down at her glass, something churning behind her eyes. "I thought that maybe it was about time I ended up trying to fit in with the humans."

Angela nodded, understanding. "It's hard sometimes. But there are a few good ones out there. Like Elisa."

Demona closed her eyes. "Yes, that human. She seems to have gotten Goliath out of his shell a bit more, made him more trusting." When she opened her eyes, there seemed to be a hint of sadness in their depths. Her voice dropped low, almost a whisper. "Something that I could never do."

She cleared her throat, choosing not to dwell on her past. "Well now, enough of the sappiness. Tell me, have you found anyone you care deeply for?"

"Care deeply for?" Angela repeated, her eyes wide. Her glass trembled a bit in her hands.

A knowing smile came to Demona's lips. "Ah, I know that look. You have. Which one of the brutes did you choose?"

The brunette bowed her head and fidgeted in her seat. "Broadway," she murmured under her breath, a light pink arising in her cheeks.

Demona raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Care to repeat that?" Mirth entered her voice, not hurtful, but teasing.

"Broadway," Angela repeated a bit louder this time, unable to look her mother in the eye.

A loud booming laugh escaped the redhead's lips. "Broadway? _Him_?" She shook her head. "Well, anything is better than that, I suppose."

"He's not so bad!" Angela rose to his defense. "He's more like a cuddly teddy bear, once you get to know him."

"When he's not stuffing his face," Demona muttered.

Angela shot down her drink, feeling it burn going down. "I almost chose Brooklyn at one point." She looked at her mother, who nodded for her daughter to continue. "We, well, we had our moments. And he's saved me a few times." She held out her glass for a refill.

"But he was full of himself at other times, and I realized he wasn't worth it. Lexington was too much of a tech geek, and liked to fiddle around with it to the point where he got too into his work. And Hudson's more like my grandfather than anything else." She wrapped her arms around herself. "When I'm with Broadway, he's gentle. There's love in his eyes and voice, in his touch, and even in his kiss."

"Your father know you've kissed?" Demona asked, curiosity in her tone.

Angela laughed this time. "Are you kidding? If he knew, he'd take Broadway outside and beat him."

Demona turned to her drink. "To be honest, I had a thing for Xanatos once."

The younger shot her mother a look. "_Excuse_ me? Xanatos? You've got to be kidding."

The redhead shook her head. "No. What can I say? He had money, power, brains, and all of it at his fingertips. Shame Fox got to him first. But no matter. He's happy." A look of bitterness entered her eyes. "I even cared for Macbeth once. But that was long ago. Long even before...never mind." She shook her head. "Even Thailog had something that attracted me. Maybe I'm into those with issues." She swallowed her drink whole, smacking her lips at the end.

"Allow me to give you some advice, Angela," Demona began, choosing her words carefully, "do not let your anger get the best of you."

"What do you mean?" Angela asked, puzzled.

The older looked up at her daughter. "You do know my story, right? About how my anger and hatred for the humans long ago?" Angela nodded, allowing Demona to continue. "After being alive for centuries, and fighting Goliath and his clan, I realized that all the pain, suffering, the heartache and agony, it starts to grow on you after the centuries. And you just get older and older. Some say you get wiser with age. I suppose that's true." She took a swig from the bottle, almost finishing the liquid. "But in the end, age only made me bitter and angry at the world, when I should have been angry at myself. Do not give in to any sort of anger or hatred. Do not give into the pain and suffering in your heart." She took a final swallow, downing the contents.

Angela watched the older gargoyle start to get up, a bit tipsy on her feet. She leaned down and lightly kissed Angela on her cheek. "You've grown into such a beautiful woman, my daughter. I'm pleased." She patted the younger's cheek, and then made her way out of the bar, taking her time. Concerned, Angela got up and followed behind, keeping a safe distance.

Demona jumped up and latched onto a wall, and began her climb upwards, a little unsteady, but agile. She soon made her way up to the rooftop, only to find her path blocked.

"Well well, what have we got here?"

The brisk, Scottish voice barked out at her. Demona sighed and looked over at the man. Even the centuries haven't had their toll on him. He looked the same as he did back then. Rugged, silver hair and beard, and those eyes, those damned eyes. Once they had looked upon her with respect and adoration, and now they looked upon her with such coldness.

_So be it. I'm tired anyway._

Demona crossed her arms. "Macbeth. What are you doing here?"

The man had pulled out a gun, aimed at her. "To put an end to this blasted curse once and for all. I'm tired Demona, and I'm sure you are as well."

She scoffed. "Please. We'd have to kill each other in order for the curse to lift, human!" she spat out.

"Of course." He spread out his arms wide, inviting her to come closer. "You have a good shot right here." He reached into his belt and found a knife, throwing it down by her feet. 'Go ahead and take the blade. Stab me in the heart. Please."

"No...no I won't!" Demona snarled. "Why the hell should I give you what you want? Not when I can make you suffer!"

"You can," Macbeth agreed, "but you won't. You won't because I know you, Demona. You may claim to be young, to be powerful. But you are just like every one of us. At the end of the day, you face yourself in the mirror, and wonder how you can live with yourself."

Demona shook her head. "I won't do it!" She picked up the blade and started toward him, about to hand it over. She hadn't gone two steps when Macbeth had grabbed onto her arm and pulled her toward him to hold her in an embrace.

She snarled, shock in her eyes. "What are you doing? Let go!"

Macbeth rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Demona."

There was a shot, followed by a burning sensation in her lower abdomen. Demona threw her head back, her mouth opened in a silent scream. Something wet and sticky dripped onto her hand, warm and coppery. She looked down at the blade that had been in her hand, now implanted into his own abdomen. She slowly shook her head, tears of disbelief running down her face. "No..."

She let go of the blade, her body shaking violently. "No...no no no no _no_!" She fell to her knees, her hands over the bullet hole his gun had left. She no longer felt the warmth of the alcohol in her system, but her life draining bit by bit every few seconds. In a matter of minutes, she'd be dead.

"_No_!"

Angela sprinted toward Demona, a look of pain in her eyes. She fell down to her knees, her shoulders shaking with her loud sobs. Demona shakily raised a hand up and cupped Angela's cheek, gently shushing her. "It's okay...You must be strong...young one..."

"Mother…" The brunette fought back her tears, but continued to sob, the salty liquid falling onto Demona's face. She lifted her mother up into her arms, cradling the woman close to her. "Stay with me, please! Allow me to help you!"

Demona shook her head slowly. "N-no..." She coughed, blood spilling over her lips. "It's...it's too late for me...to begin with..." She smiled one last time.

"I love..."

Her words trailed off into nothing, her eyes closed, head resting on Angela's chest. Angela shook with bitter sobs. She may have clashed with the gargoyle, but _never_ had she wished death upon her. Fate was cruel, doing this to her. She threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, the tears continuing, as she screamed into the night, her voice filled with heartache and grief.

"_Mother_!"

* * *

Demona watched the sight before her, tears of pain running down her cheeks. "Why show me this?" She rounded on the person who stood before her, her face one of fiery rage. "Why show me my daughter's pain? Is guilt what you're after?"

"Calm yourself," the woman spoke before her. Well, she was a woman in the sense of the word. She was not one of the Weird sisters. This woman had very light green skin and pointed ears. She wore something akin to royalty. Just her luck, a royal taking pity on her. "I've come to show you this, because I want to help you."

"Help me? By showing me this?" Demona shook her head unable to understand. "What are you playing at?"

The woman before her held out a hand, a gentle smile upon her lips. "I've come to offer you a second chance. One I'm sure you wouldn't get if it were anyone else."

The gargoyle stood her ground, her arms crossed. "And you expect me to believe you?"

"No," the woman said, "but I'm expecting you to hear me out." When Demona didn't answer, the woman continued. "You were tired of living, tired of going through each and every day in more pain and sorrow. Which is why you were really at that bar, weren't you?" Demona nodded, still keeping quiet. "What if I were to offer you something that could be useful? That could allow you to see your clan again?"

Demona looked up, intrigued. Against her better judgment, she nodded.

* * *

It was bright and sunny, _too_ sunny if you asked her. The heels of her boots sounded sharp against the sidewalk, as she moved and weaved through the thousands of people who crowded the streets on a daily basis. The redhead had one thing in mind, and one thing only.

_Though for the life of me, I can't remember why I'm going there..._

It was the same every day. She walk into Xanatos Towers, greet the redhead and her son, Alex, and then make her way up the stairs in the towers. For some reason, this place felt familiar to her, this place felt like home. Its stone walls and passageways with twists and turns that went anywhere and everywhere, it was hard not to think of it that way.

She made it outside, the bright rays dancing along her skin. She had gotten a nice tan a few days ago, it really brought out the green in her eyes. She made her way over to the gargoyle statue she had wanted to see. Of the one who sat brooding, its expression unreadable. Without a word, the woman raised her hand up to caress the stone's cheek, feeling smooth, cold stone underneath.

"Dominique, Xanatos is here. He'd like to say hello to you."

Dominique sighed. Just another day in the life of a business owner. One had piranhas that always seemed to feed off of her. She looked back at the gargoyle, the wind blowing her long red hair a bit behind her.

"Goodbye. It was good to see you again."

She didn't know why she did it, or why she even came here. But she did. And besides, it got her out and about for awhile, and she was hardly complaining.

_Best not to keep him waiting._

She bid a final look at the statues around her, before she slipped back inside, her chest feeling lighter than it had been all week.

_A/N: I can always continue this, maybe turn it into a full on story about afterwards. You can always PM me if you'd like to see it. And as always, reviews are appreciated. Hope you all enjoyed._


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